


One Too Many Bullets

by sarahspokelse



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Childhood Memories, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gun Violence, Near Death Experiences, Psychic Strand
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-12-20 07:19:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11915919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahspokelse/pseuds/sarahspokelse
Summary: Alex finds herself in a sticky situation which brings badly hidden feelings of both Alex and Strand to the surface.





	1. Chapter One

Alex's body was frozen to the chair. She'd never thought she'd have to face something like this before.

Insomnia, yes.

Possible Demons, yes.

A huge crush on a certain doctor, not that she'd admit but yes.

But never a crazy man with a gun. That was more a worry of Nic's.  
Nevertheless here she sat, glued to a sturdy yet old dining chair. Her fingers were trembling and her breaths were coming fast and shallow. A lump the size of a toad had settled itself into her throat. One second she'd been wrapping up an interview with a subject of a black tape and the next he started screaming and waving around a loaded glock G43. 

"WELL MISS REAGAN?" Mr. Collins yelled. His eyes darkening in rage. 

She tried to calm her tone. Her mother told a story at Thanksgiving about when she was held at gunpoint at the bank where she worked. A fellow coworker had managed to calm the robber down with just his voice until the police arrived. It had happened before Alex was born and she often wondered how terrifying the experience must have been. If she got out of this, at least she'd have a story of her own for Thanksgiving.

"Mr. Collins. You don't need to do this. If you let me leave-"

"Let you leave? Miss Reagan, I can't let you leave. Not when the dark men follow you too."

Alex couldn't help the gasp that punched itself through her lips, but she had to persist.

"Mr. Collins, there are no dark men. You said your doctors recently changed your medicine? It is very possible-"

A loud bang erupted. A bullet drove itself into the ceiling. Alex shrieked and cloud of drywall dust showered over her. Her ears throbbed but she was surprised to find that she hadn't ruptured both eardrums when Mr. Collins began yelling again. 

"SHUT UP. SHUT UP, YOU STUPID BITCH."

Oh God. Someone had to have heard that-and by someone she hoped it was Strand. He'd know to call the police. Dr Strand- with his icy blue eyes and calculating brain. He would know something was wrong. She'd sent him out to get the car when the interview was turning sour, when Mr. Collins was growing more erratic. Richard never did well with erratic people- apparently neither did she. 

He continued to yell when she heard sirens in the distance. Mr. Collins, still in his rage, was paying attention to little other than Alex and the supposed dark men around the room. Now was her chance. 

She fumbled in her pockets finding the hard plastic of her chapstick. She carefully removed it from her pocket. She sat there-a cold sweat starting at her neck. God she could hear both Nic and Stand now. They were going to yell at her. Perhaps Strand would finally take her into his arms-

Just then Mr. Collins looked away from her direction. She threw her chapstick hard at the wall behind him. The man jumped in fright and turned frantically.

Alex sprung from her chair and began to step backwards, keeping her eyes on him. She was almost to the door when Mr. Collins swung aroung to face her and brought up the gun. The door burst open and Alex toppled to the ground, an unexpected weight hitting her shoulder. 

"Alex! Alex!"

"Strand-"

She tried to tell him that she was okay but at seeing his wide eyes and panic she faltered. Gunshots continued to fire above them hitting the ceiling and walls.  
He went down to his knees. Alex reached up to grab him. She had to hold him. She needed him here with her-she needed him to-to-

Dr. Strand pulled her out the door and up into his arms. She was surprised how fast he had transported them both from inside the doorway to behind his car parked down the street. Outside, curled against the woolen sweater covering his chest, Alex could still hear Mr. Collins raging inside his house.

"Either he's out of bullets or he doesn't want to follow us outside. I've called the police-"

Strand stopped talking then and Alex almost whined. She loved the sound of his grumbly, masculine voice.

He brought his hands down to her shoulder, pressing hard. A hot burning sensation pulsated from his hands.

" Alex-"

"Ouch," she said her eyes fluttering. For the first time in months she felt the pull of sleep. 

"Alex, stay with me. Alex, you've been shot."

She was vaguely aware of what he was saying. He sounded like he was trying to talk to her through a pillow. A very soft, down pillow. She hadn't slept a full nights sleep in months. Before she had insomnia, she used to take naps in strange places. Her father told her when she was a toddler she'd managed to climb up to the top of the refridgerator and promptly fall asleep there. Now she'd give anything to just close her eyes for more than an hour or two, no matter where it was.

She realized she was cold, "Richard, Richard I'm cold. And sleepy."

"Alex you need to stay awake. ALEX." 

The heaviness of her body, lack of sleep, and Strand's forceful voice was an uncommon mix of artificial sleep agents, but if would have to do. She was vaguely aware of flashing lights and loud voices when her eyes closed. She frowned as sleep took her. She hoped he would stay with her till she woke up.


	2. Chapter 2

Strand hadn't realized how thin she'd gotten. Only now, seeing her sunken eyes and her body draped in hospital linens, had he noticed it. How many times had she taken him out to lunch and gotten little to nothing for herself?

"She hates hospitals." 

Nic had returned from getting coffee. Nic had offered him some but he declined. Alex was the coffee drinker. He preferred a strong tea. 

"She's gonna be pissed."

Strand made a sound of agreement, "Better leave her to me when she wakes up then, I seem to be at the main object of her wrath these days."

Nic shook his head, which made his floppy hair fall over his glasses," She's always had plenty of wrath. You should of seen her in college. She's gotten better but... living on a few hours of sleep brings out the worst in people." 

They sat in silence for a moment. Both looking at the woman in front of them, made fragile by stress and insomnia and one too many bullets. Strand wasn't one for small talk but he had to distract himself from the smell of disinfectant and the sickly pallor that had overtaken Alex's northwestern pale.

"You went to college together?"

"No, but we both interned at PRA during those years. That's how we became friends. When you're stuck in a studio with only one person your age for hours, you tend to befriend each other."

"I suppose."

They returned to silence. Nic began bouncing his leg. While Strand was welcoming distraction, bouncing legs remained first and foremost on his list of main annoyances.

He turned his head toward his acquaintance, "Stop."

Nic looked up in shock, then confusion. His leg halted abruptly.

"Thank you."

Strand looked back at Alex. He had been watching her lungs expand and retract, her chest rise and fall. He was terrified it would halt, like it almost had on the sidewalk beside his car last night.

"She likes you, you know."

Stand couldn't help the ferocity at which his head snapped to look at Nic. The radio producer was still looking at Alex but he had placed his elbows on his knees.

"All her other boyfriends were jerks."

Strand could feel his blood pressure rising. Of course, of course. The ones with the best hearts attracted the worst. But then, what did that make him?

"This is highly inappropriate."

Nic's lip twisted in anger. 

"Pray tell, Dr. Strand, when will it be appropriate? After she almost dies in your arms again? After she wears her mind down from a mixture of insomnia and uncovering a level of scary shit most people don't encounter over an entire lifetime? I can't get her to open up. Something's wrong with her, Strand. I can feel it. She won't let me help her."

Dr. Strand eyed the tubes and monitors attached to her. It was hard to imagine it getting worse from here. But he knew from experience that it did.

"She'll only listen to you. I'm not saying you have to fix her. I just want you to help. And-and-and if-if you can't-" Nic said stuttering in anger "-then get the hell out of the picture."

Strand only nodded. He'd help her. He'd lost so many in his life, even himself at times, but he wasn't going to let it happen to her. Not to Alex, she didn't deserve that.


	3. Chapter 3

Alex groaned and sat up. Even with a bullet wound she couldn't get any rest. Her mother had left a week ago, having to return to work. The stiches were almost out but Alex was instructed to be careful, something she was never good at.

One particular instance she' d climbed up one of the massive pines out behind her childhood home. Her parents had been having a barbacue or family picnic or something. She remembered freezing up for a second while climbing. From the ground, her older cousins tried to coax her down. That gained the attention of her father, who went pale at the sight of her high up, barely visible amoung the needles.

" _Come on Alex. Easy, easy. Be careful, Sunshine."_

She always thought the nickname was ironic, given the overcast skies of cascadia. She was almost to the ground. She was less than ten feet from her father's outstretched arms when she fell. He didn't catch her.

She broke her arm in two places. Her father blamed himself for awhile. She remembered how sad he was whenever he looked at her cast.

_"Help me color it, Daddy!"_

_"What?"_ He was bewildered, broken from his trance.

_"I don't want you to be sad anymore! Let's make it happy."_

She remembered being confused at seeing the tears in his eyes and clinging to his leg in fear she'd made him even sadder. It wasn't until he sat down and helped her decorate her arm did she realize he was laughing again.

She vaguely remembered her mom watching from the doorway, a smirk on her lips. Alex rose to get a drink. Her throat was dry and scratchy.

Her feet padded on her hardwood floors. She looked down at her patterned socks. If she looked up she might see the things that haunted her dreams, the things that Strand had to convince her weren't real, the things that she would never admit to believing in.

When she heard the knock on the door, she almost dropped her glass of water. She turned on another light and tiptoed toward the door. Her hands shook as her opened it.

"Strand!" His hair was wet and his glassed were foggy. He was dressed formally as always, however tonight he'd ditched the jacket. The fabric at his shoulders was transparent from the rain, giving Alex a glimpse at his strong shoulders.

"I brought some pho," he said. "Nic said it was Seattle's version of chicken noodle soup." 

Alex smiled, "Not exactly, but it's popular here."

She invited him in and took out some bowls. He cleared his throat and said remarkably gently, "I hope I didn't wake you."

"Oh no-" Alex said biting her lip, "-I'd just woken up." She was suddenly aware of her attire. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail. She was wearing yoga pants and patterned socks along with a sweatshirt that hid the fact that she'd discarded her bra earlier in the evening. At least, Alex hoped it hid the fact. She wondered if he could see through the layers of clothing. He had been married once. Surely he could tell if she was wearing a bra or not. She froze slightly at the idea of him noticing. A shiver rolled down her spine as she though of him noticing and caring.

"Are you cold?" He'd come around the corner to help her pour the soup.

"Um-nuh-uh," Alex said shaking her head. He was leaning in close to her. His breath made the hairs that had escaped her ponytail writhe and twist.

"How is your shoulder?"

Alex couldn't help the blush that was rising up from her chest. "The stiches are almost out. Less than a week from now."

He made a rumbling sound in his throat. Alex had to hold onto the counter to keep her knees from buckling. That was still her favorite sound in the world, no matter how many sound clips she'd been sent.

Alex ushered them to the couch and put on a movie while they ate.

"How was Chicago?" She asked. He'd gone back after she'd woken up. Alex knew he was frazzled. His hair was tousled more than normal, his glasses were askew, and his shoes were untied. He'd said he needed to take care of some things.

"Fine," He answered, looking back to her, "I'm going to stay in the area for awhile, at my father's house."

"Oh."

"Ruby and some interns are handling regular operations out of Chicago."

"You have interns now?"

Strand looked at her from over his glasses, "Your podcast has grown interest in the institute tenfold. Although I've decided to no longer take more black tapes, focus remains on other avenues. Some young people seem to be interested."

"So you were faced with dealing with college students, and you retreated back here?" She questioned playfully, a smile emerging.

"You know me too well, Ms. Reagan," Strand said hiding a grin. Alex laughed and stood up. She stretched with a groan. The healing skin was still tender and she had to be mindful. Her sweatshirt had ridden up to expose her hips and lower tummy. She thought she caught him looking; it was much more likely she had imagined it.

She picked up their empty bowls and made her way to the sink.

"Well. What do you think Dr. Strand? Up for some more adventures?" He followed her and sat at the counter.

He quirked an eyebrow. It rose impishly over his glasses. "Adventures? Is that what you call them?"

She just smiled at him, waiting for an answer. "As long as no one gets shot-" he coughed "-again, and you're all rested. Then yes, Alex."

"Great! Let's get started."


End file.
